Duke of York’s, London
9th
February, 2019, matinee
“I get to choose now. This is what I’ve chosen”
How far would you go to achieve domestic perfection? What
even is domestic perfection? Is our
happiness shaped by or confounded by traditional gender roles? These are the
questions Laura Wade posits in her feminist satire, Home, I’m Darling.
Judy (Katherine Parkinson) and Johnny (Richard Harrington)
seem to be the epitome of marital bliss – she the doting housewife, while he
works to sustain their quaint lifestyle in their immaculate post-war house.
Dressed to the nines in an array of gorgeous tea dresses, Judy is always ready
with Johnny’s slippers and a cocktail for him at the end of the day, and she
lives by the word of ‘How to Run Your Home Without Help’ – a 1940’s guide to
ideal domesticity.
So far, so archaic. But an early twist in Wade’s play reveals
Judy and Johnny to be somewhat of a socio-historic anomaly, living in a 1950’s
style microcosm slap bang in the middle of the 21st Century. They
have an apple macbook stashed away, yet their authentic 50’s fridge doesn’t
work; Judy tries to make up for their shortfall in funds since she quit her job
by selling her vintage outfits on Ebay. Workplace politics, the necessity for
technology and independence, and mounting pressure from a society that’s
embraced more liberal views on sex and gender mean that the couple must face
the inevitable question of whether the life they have made for themselves is at
all sustainable.
Anna Fleischle’s impressive set recreates an idealised 1950’s
suburbia, each immaculate room lit by Lucy Carter so as to emphasise the
physical and mental compartmentalisation of the couple’s lives. Yet,
aesthetically pleasing as it is, I felt that director Tamara Harvey didn’t
utilise the space to its best advantage. The majority of the action takes place
in the kitchen and lounge, with incidental scenes 'upstairs’ as mere tag ons to
accompany the excellent playlist of retro classics (Little Richard, Chuck
Berry). I am also unsure what thought Harvey/ Fiery Angel Productions/ the
NT have given to transferring the play to this theatre as the sightlines are
not great, meaning the pivotal twist in the first scene is lost by a good
proportion of the upper circle. In fact, from where we were sat, the majority
of the kitchen was obscured.
Production quibbles aside, Wade manages to evoke a sense of
romantic nostalgia (not least in the play’s form) while also homing in on the
inequalities and less-savoury aspects of the past. Judy takes pride in her
housework, and the detailed minutiae of her day demonstrates the workmanship
that every house-wife/husband/person undertakes. I think there’s definitely
some tract in her assertion that feminism has allowed her to ‘choose’ this
lifestyle, but her dedication to the past restricts her relationship with her
husband to the point where it becomes obvious that they are merely ‘playing
house’. And it’s this pretence that creates a brilliant stroke of discomfort.
As Judy’s mother, Sylvia (at this performance played by Jane MacFarlane), says,
romanticising a past which in reality was brutal, unfair and impoverished for
all but a select few (white, straight, middle-class) is bordering on the
offensive – especially when trying to claim supremacy over a still-flawed yet
altogether more tolerant modern society.
This discomfort is brought to the fore with Judy’s
incomprehensible attitude towards relationships. Her insistence that affairs
are fine as long as the other partner never finds out, or her blind defence of
her friend Marcus (Hywel Morgan) when he’s accused of sexual harassment,
demonstrate a willing naivety which feels almost exploitative to watch. Semi-justification
is provided through Judy’s backstory of an unconventional upbringing in a
communal collective. But the posited explanation that Judy’s way of thinking is
purely down to a teenage-esque rebellion against her righteous mother is a
little too pat. I also found the eleventh hour revelation about her father’s
misdemeanours lacked punch. But, for the most part, although it initially feels
like Wade deliberately uses her characters as toys in a dollhouse, I found
myself later coming round to them, understanding their flaws and their
reasoning.
In all, Home, I’m
Darling raises some important complexities regarding modern attitudes to
love, sex, gender, work and leisure, yet Wade doesn’t quite get under the skin
of these issues due to the abiding formal aesthetics of the piece.
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